


The Surface

by maebyrutherford (maeberutherford)



Series: The Right Hand [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Past Infidelity, Post-Break Up, Post-Game(s), Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeberutherford/pseuds/maebyrutherford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen, the Right Hand of the Divine, has to work alongside his ex, The Inquisitor, after their first painful reunion a year ago.</p><p>A sequel to "Clarity"; although it's not required reading, it helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Surface

**Author's Note:**

> I got a tumblr prompt "Please, tell me you forgive me!" and I thought it fit perfectly into this series, so I churned this out earlier today.

It had been exactly one year since Cullen had last seen Tara in that café in Val Royeaux. She had, to her credit, heeded his request to not reach out to him directly, although she had periodically corresponded with Cassandra. After all, the Inquisitor and the Divine still needed to work together on certain matters, at least until all of Thedas was truly at peace.

And now she was here, in Honnleath of all places, although he had known all about her visit. She was here for the same reason he was; to investigate reports of a nearby hideout belonging to an extremist mage cult who weren’t satisfied with the accord that had ended the war. Cassandra had sent him, her Right Hand, hoping that his knowledge of the area would expedite the mission.

Tara hadn’t noticed him yet. He watched as she chatted up the friendly innkeep, ordering a mug of house ale instead of her usual wine. Clever, he thought, trying to ingratiate herself with the locals. Her hair, long and loose the last time they met, was tied into a modest bun on the nape of her neck. She was covered in practical battle leathers, her exquisitely crafted daggers hoisted on her back.

Cullen was apprehensive, but not particularly nervous, not this time. They would have to learn how to be around each other; this certainly would not be the last time they would be working together. He felt capable of keeping a friendly, professional demeanor, if she was willing.

He decided it was time to stop lurking and approached the bar, a couple of paces down from where she stood.

“Well met, Inquisitor.”

She smiled, looking down at her mug before turning to face him. “Cullen, it’s good to see you again. I’m sorry, should I call you Right Hand? Brother Cullen?”

Cullen smirked. “Cullen is fine. I suppose it’s only fair that I call you Tara, then.”

She took a sip of her ale, watching him over the rim. She was fresh-faced and beautiful as always, a vast difference from the heavily painted look she had sported a year ago.

“I would like that.”

They were interrupted by the innkeep taking Cullen’s order.

“So,” she said, leaning her elbow on the bar, “this cult sounds like nasty business. I’m glad you’re here. I mean, because you’re from Honnleath, not any other reason. Not that I’m _not_ glad to see you, but – oh Maker, I’ll just shut up now.” She took another swig of ale, bouncing her leg on the foot rest.

Cullen hadn’t seen her act nervous around him since – well, since the days when they were becoming close and he had begun to suspect she returned his feelings. He tried to dismiss that painful memory.

“I’m sure the mighty Inquisition could take them down without my help. And I know it’s hard to tell sometimes, but I’m not being facetious, I assure you. Who did you bring with you?”

She waved her hand. “Nobody you know. A couple of warriors and a mage, not the best personalities in the world but they’re the best we have. All the companions you knew have moved on. To be honest, it’s quite lonely since Josie went back to Antiva. Rylen’s all right, but you know him, he’s a tough nut to crack. And I don’t think Leliana likes me.”

Cullen laughed. “I wouldn’t take it personally. I don’t think Leliana likes anybody, except her pet nugs. And maybe her crows.”

Tara giggled. “Point taken.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, sipping their ales, the ice broken. Cullen looked around the empty inn, recalling the suppers he had here with his family for during special occasions.

“This place, it hasn’t changed a bit,” he confided. “My family and I were here once for a feast, part of a harvest festival. Branson was only a small child, but he was fascinated by one of the performers’ knife throwing demonstrations. He picks up the dinner knife –the little bugger knew to grab it by the blade and everything – and flings it into the wall over there, barely missing an old woman’s head,” he pointed to a well worn beam and snickered. “Even my father had a hard time pulling it out. He got a good scolding for that one. I wonder if the mark is still there?”

He felt her eyes on him, but he pretended to be fixated on the wooden beam.

“I love hearing stories about your childhood. At least yours is worth remembering.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, and went back to sipping his beer. He cursed himself for letting his guard down.

“Is he as good at throwing daggers now as you are? I remember almost feeling sorry for your dummy. It was quite the, ahem, sight, to watch you train.”

He ignored that last part. “I’m not sure. Perhaps we should have a friendly contest the next time I see him.”

There was another awkward silence, and then she spoke.

“Cullen, listen. If we’re going to be working together, I feel it’s best if we get something out of the way now, so we can focus on the task at hand.”

Cullen sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tara, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. We’re getting along just fine, let’s not ruin this.”

“Please, just listen, will you? I know I don’t deserve to ask anything of you, after the way I treated you, but just hear me out. That’s all I ask. Afterward you can spit in my face and refuse to speak to me ever again if you want, and I’ll respect your wish.”

Cullen knitted his brow. “Do you honestly think I would do something like that?”

“Well no, not really, I was just making a point.”

Cullen finished his ale. “All right. Say your piece.”

She watched and waited until the innkeep was out of earshot before continuing.

“Like I said, I don’t deserve anything, I know this, after what I put you through. But, you mean so much to me, you’ll never know how much. I can go on without you – I don’t have a choice, it seems – but I cannot go on living without knowing the answer.”

He didn’t want to know what that question was, so he waited, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. She could be up to her old tricks again, trying to convince him that she’d changed, and he wouldn’t fall for it.

“Can you forgive me? Please, Cullen, tell me you forgive me!” She reached toward him and stopped herself, gripping the edge of the bar instead with one hand and clenching her fist with the other.

Cullen hesitated. “Do you want forgiveness so that you can sleep at night? Is that it?”

“I…I…I don’t know. I just need to hear it. I cannot bear the fact that you may never forgive me for what I’ve done. I’m so, so sorry, Cullen.”

He moved in closer and looked her in the eye, speaking softly but firmly.

“For months, no, years, I couldn’t bear the fact that the woman I loved more than anything in this world, the one person I gave myself to completely when I thought I was damaged beyond repair, who I thought would never hurt me, could romance another man under my nose, lie about it, convince me that it was over, and then give herself to that man while she also writhed beneath me in my bed, screaming my name. Sometimes, I still cannot bear it. But I have to live with that, maybe for the rest of my life. You have no idea the damage you’ve done, the trust that you have destroyed.”

She let out a single quick sob, her hand quickly covering her mouth.

“So no, Tara, I cannot give you what you seek. I cannot forgive you. And you’ll have to find a way to live with that.”

She stared at the floor as his words hung in the air, harsh but true, and finally, she nodded.

“I understand. It was too much to ask.” She reached into her pouch and left some coin on the bar.

“So,” she said, quickly wiping a tear from her eye, “We’re meeting here tomorrow at dawn, yes? To start questioning the locals?”

“Yes,” Cullen said apprehensively. He’d expected a meltdown or more manipulation, but she seemed to be in control of her emotions. “I will be at my sister’s, just outside the village, should you need to get in touch before then. This inn has a raven.”

“Right. Say hello to her for me, will you?” She attempted a smile.

Cullen definitely would not be doing that; her name was mud as far as Mia was concerned. “Of course.”

“Good afternoon, Cullen.”

He watched as she disappeared up the stairs and wondered, as he often did when it came to Tara, if he would truly ever be able to look at her and feel absolutely nothing. That day couldn't come soon enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think (thanks to some of you who commented on Clarity) i've got a really good outline for how this series will go. We'll get into Tara's character motivations a bit, and focus on Cullen moving on with his life and finding a new love. And who is this other man?


End file.
